


as long as you're near

by notquiteaghost



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Agender Character, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquiteaghost/pseuds/notquiteaghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're stuck in a car with a broken heater." Grantaire says, in that tone of voice like this should be obvious. "And it's blizzarding. And we might be here for hours. And you're not even wearing a coat."</p>
            </blockquote>





	as long as you're near

**Author's Note:**

> at [rosie's](http://harrietvane.co.vu) request. this was meant to be three sentences. i have no control over my life anymore.
> 
> FOR THE SAKE OF CLARITY: in this fic, **enjolras is agender. enjolras uses they/their/them pronouns, because they are agender.**

"Just so you know, I'm really uncomfortable with this." Grantaire announces, and Enjolras raises an eyebrow.

"Uncomfortable with what?"

"We're stuck in a car with a broken heater." Grantaire says, in that tone of voice like this should be obvious. "And it's blizzarding. And we might be here for hours. And you're not even wearing a coat."

"...And I have no idea where you're going with this." Enjolras replies, choosing to ignore 'blizzarding'. They don't need to get into an argument, not when they're probably going to be here for hours, especially not a petty one about linguistics.

Grantaire sighs, that one particular 'Jesus Christ do you do this on purpose' sigh that only Enjolras ever seems to provoke. "Huddling for warmth, Enjolras. Though, if you'd rather get hypothermia, I completely understand--"

"Stop that." Enjolras cuts in. "That's absurd. What kind of horrible person would choose hypothermia over you?"

Grantaire flushes, which-- isn't exactly the reaction Enjolras had been expecting. "Well, it's not like I'm anything special."

And, again, Enjolras choose to ignore that, because they really don't need to get into an argument right now. Especially not one that's likely to make Grantaire upset. ...Not that Enjolras ever wants to make Grantaire upset, but still.

"I consent to 'huddle for warmth' with you, Grantaire." Enjolras says, instead, their tone only mildly exasperated.

Grantaire's face does something interesting Enjolras can't quite put words to, and he says, "Right. Of course. Um." and then doesn't move.

Enjolras rolls their eyes, and starts trying to manuever themself closer to Grantaire. Grantaire's eyes widen, and he freezes. So Enjolras freezes too. "You are okay with this, right?"

"I-- Yeah, of course." Grantaire says, but he doesn't sound it. "I just..."

"You can't 'huddle for warmth' if there's a metre of empty space between you." Enjolras says, voice softening slightly. They really don't want to make Grantaire uncomfortable - they never want to make Grantaire uncomfortable - but, well, it's this or hypothermia. As Grantaire has already said. "And I'm sitting in the driver's seat."

Grantaire swallows, but he doesn't say anything.

There's a brief pause, and then Enjolras sighs and says, "And, if we're being honest, it'd be much easier for me to sit in your lap than the other way round. Because, as I'm sure you've noticed, there are twelve year-olds taller than me."

Grantaire blushes at that, which is... interesting, and also something Enjolras is very pointedly not going to think about.

They resume their climb over the gear stick, and Grantaire relaxes a fraction until Enjolras is actually in his personal space, at which point he freezes all over again. Enjolras bites back a sigh.

"Fuck, you're freezing." Grantaire mutters, as Enjolras tries to reposition themself so Grantaire will relax.

"Sorry, I didn't expect to get stuck in a blizzard." Enjolras snaps, but Grantaire just grins.

"Come here, your hands are like ice." He says, relaxing slightly as he pulls Enjolras close, wraps his coat around them both, then wraps his hands around Enjolras' hands. Which is completely innocent and not at all strange and there's absolutely _no_ reason for Enjolras' breath to catch in their chest.

Except. Grantaire's hands are warm, and surprisingly soft, excepting the callouses, and Christ, Enjolras has lost count of the number of times they've zoned out staring at these hands. 

...Something else they're not thinking about.

"See, it's not so bad." Enjolras mutters. Grantaire huffs a laugh, and Enjolras can feel his breath on their cheek. "Much better than hypothermia, if you ask me."

"You say that now," Grantaire says, his tone caught somewhere between teasing and self-deprecating.

Enjolras' expression hardens. "I don't know why you're so convinced I wouldn't want to be close to you," they say, a hint of exasperation seeping into their voice, "Do I really give off that impression?"

Grantaire doesn't reply, but he doesn't need to. His expression says it all.

"I don't hate you." Enjolras says. "I've never hated you. I might find you exasperating or even infruriating at times, but I've never _hated_ you. You're my friend." Then they hesitate, because wait, what if they're wrong. "I mean. We are friends, right?"

Grantaire opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it, then swallows, then says, "Um. If you say so?"

"I do say so." Enjolras replies, voice firm. "And I also say that I don't hate you. I might even go so far as to say that I like you."

"Oh." Grantaire says.

Enjolras rolls their eyes. "Are we good now?"

"I... guess?"

"Good." Enjolras tries to get closer to Grantaire, preferably as close as physically possible, because it turns out he's really warm, and really comfortable, and Enjolras might be in danger of falling asleep. 

"Are you falling asleep on me?" Grantaire asks, after a few minutes, sounding bemused.

Enjolras shakes their head. "Of course I'm not, don't be ridiculous."

"Enjolras, your eyes are closed."

"It's not my fault I'm running on three hours sleep. Or that you're really warm. Or that you're really comfortable."

And, fuck, Enjolras is definitely half-asleep if their brain-to-mouth filter is in such bad working order.

There's a pause, and Enjolras can almost see the look of surprise on Grantaire's face without needing to open their eyes, and Christ, Enjolras is so very fucked. "Right. Okay. Actually, you know what, you can fall asleep on me. In fact, I'm encouraging it. I think you need it."

"Mhmmm." Enjolras says, resting their forehead on Grantaire's shoulder. Really, it's not fair that one man can be so comfortable, but Enjolras isn't going to complain. They are really, really tired, and a few minutes rest doesn't sound half-bad...

\---

"Enjolras. Enjolras!"

Enjolras blinks awake slowly, still sleep-slow and groggy. "Wha?"

"Good evening to you too." Grantaire says, a fond look on his face.

Enjolras sits up. Their back aches something terrible, but they can't bring it in themselves to care. They're too busy focusing on how they _napped_ on _Grantaire_. And Grantaire _let_ them.

"Shuddup." Enjolras mutters. Grantaire just grins.

Then Enjolras looks around, and something isn't right. They're not in the car anymore. They're not in any car anymore. In fact, if Enjolras were to hazard a guess, they'd have to say it looks like they're in Grantaire's front room.

"...Did you carry me out the car?" Enjolras asks, narrowing their eyes at Grantaire.

Grantaire, for what it's worth, does flush a rather fetching shade of-- does look guilty. "Um. Yeah? You'd been asleep barely twenty minutes when our rescuers arrived, and I couldn't bring myself to wake you up, so..."

"Grantaire." Enjolras groans. They don't know exactly what emotion they're hoping to convey with that, but God, _Grantaire_. "How long was I asleep?"

"Um, just under four hours?" Grantaire says, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand, a nervous gesture he picked up from Courfeyrac. "I'm about to make dinner, and I figured, you should probably eat. I mean, you don't have to eat here, but--"

"I fell asleep on you." Enjolras interrupts, because no, they're still stuck on that, "And you didn't wake me up. I fell asleep on you, so you carried me out of the car, and into your apartment. I fell asleep on you, and you carried me up _four flights of stairs_."

"...Yes?"

Enjolras stares at him wordlessly for one long moment, then they're leaning forward and pressing their lips against Grantaire's, because seriously, what else are they meant to do? _Grantaire carried them up four flights of stairs_.

Grantaire freezes, and Enjolras' blood goes cold, because fuck, maybe they were wrong, maybe Grantaire is going to pull away, shit what if Grantaire hates them-- And then Grantaire is relaxing and kissing back and everything is fine. Everything is _wonderful_ , because Grantaire's moaning into Enjolras' mouth and he tastes amazing and Enjolras is going to wake up any moment now, but they don't even care.

Eventually, they have to break for air, and then Grantaire leans his forehead against Enjolras', and he's panting heavily, and Enjolras did that. His lips are kiss-red and his eyes are dark and _Enjolras did that_.

"So." Grantaire says.

"I've kind of wanted to do that for a while." Enjolras admits, because it seems like the kind of time to admit to that sort of thing.

"Same." Grantaire replies, and something in Enjolras' chest soars. "Does this, um. Are we... dating? Now?"

Enjolras drops their eyes to the floor. "Only if you want to."

"Yes." Grantaire says, and the vehemance of his reply makes Enjolras look back up again. "Fuck, hell yes, of course I want to date you."

Enjolras grins, then, unable to help themself, presses their lips back together.

It's a brief kiss, though, because Grantaire pulls back with a serious expression on his face and says, "We need to-- What do you want me to call you? I mean, which gender-neutral alternative to boyfriend do you prefer? There's a few, right?"

"...You googled it, didn't you." Enjolras says, a warm something spreading through them that they aren't quite sure they want to put a name to yet. Grantaire nods, then flushes and ducks his head, but Enjolras just grins. "Um, I've always liked feyfriend, I guess."

Grantaire nods again. "Feyfriend," he repeats, like he's testing the way it feels in his mouth, "This is Enjolras, my feyfriend. Yeah, I can get used to that."

Hearing him say that, so casually, so _happily_ , well. Enjolras can't exactly be blamed for kissing him again after that.


End file.
